


burn briefer and less bright

by blastellanos



Category: National Football League RPF
Genre: M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 05:44:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8699545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blastellanos/pseuds/blastellanos
Summary: 11. the one where soulmates share extreme physical sensation — if one gets hurt, the other gets hurt, and etc.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thesaddestboner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaddestboner/gifts).



People tend to think that soulmate bonding is some fantastical bright process; that once you meet that person you  _ know _ and that there isn’t really any doubt. This isn’t always the case, even with bonds that wind tight, like scads of fishing line getting tangled together, sometimes the people involved just don’t  _ know _ . Especially in shared experience. 

There were stories, about how being bonded was one of those things, where that “shared joy is double joy” kind of platitude was actually true. 

Calvin remembers when he was younger, much younger, when his dad had been in an accident how his mom had collapsed in the kitchen, shattering dirty dishes that she’d been taking to the sink. He knew the process-- that these things happened and once you met your soulmate, that was just a matter of fact. 

But it isn’t like you never met people who was experiencing the same things as you were feeling, near constantly. That life as an NFL receiver came with a near constant feeling of ache and the low level buzz of happiness and grief, depending on the finale score. 

It comes as no surprise then, that most of the time people who play together, who have no idea that their bonded is going to be a male anyways, don’t even realize that someone that they’re balling with can be the one they’re supposed to live life with. 

Injuries, if they’re not intensive and season ending and rough and horrible-- or even if they are-- doesn’t always key off enough. 

But now that Calvin is retired, living his own life, he’s starting to wonder about it. He’s getting better, or rather, feeling better on the day-to-day. That sort of offseason recovery feeling, but then not getting back out there and putting himself and his body on the line. 

Where he slowly gets the feeling back and can run without pain. 

He can play with his kid without the constant low level pain. That’s why-- it’s a  _ surprise _ when it happens. There’s a brief consideration, before the near the end of the season, that his happiness at Lions wins and depression at their defeats felt too strong. But he considers that to be leftover, lingering team loyalty. 

He realizes it, instead, when they’re watching the game in December. He’s on the couch watching, his son tucked up into his side, listening to the announcers with a sort of permanent frown. The Bears aren’t very good-- but these matches are always hard fought and divisional games always seem rougher. But the Lions were first place and doing alright against the struggling Bears’ defense. 

On the screen, coverage is blown up and someone on the front four tosses Decker aside like he’s a piece of kleenex and he just has a brief flash of Matthew being drilled down into the ground before his vision  _ swims _ . His eyes unfocusing and everything going a little dark. 

That’s when he  _ knows _ . That some of that pain hadn’t just been his own rough handling, it makes sense. Suddenly settling deep and low in his stomach, the realization near as painful and unsettling as the sensation. Calvin bolts from the couch and to the bathroom, barely making it before the nausea takes over. 

His long fingers clutch the cool porcelain as he rests his forehead against the seat, breathing heavy and uneven. 

It’s subsiding, slightly, but he’s sure that the realization won’t. Other memories filter through and he wonders if the pain was his own, if the joy was his own, if sometimes late at night, he’d be racked with a sudden tingling of desire and want to touch himself-- were those thoughts all his own. 

“Matthew…” Calvin whispers the name in the hollow of the bowl and closes his eyes. 

What the fuck was he going to do with this knowledge? Their circles were getting less and less crossover and would continue to do so. He feels the feeling subside enough that he could stand again and he blinked several times and splashed water on his face. 

Back to the couch, to the game, where Orlovsky was under center, the announcers talking about Matthew being evaluated. Calvin looks down at his hands and then grabs his phone. He scrolls to his last text conversation with Matthew and hits the reply button. 

_ we need 2 talk after the game. call  me. good  luck.  _


End file.
